Nightfall Curse

chapter 13

What the hell is going on? What the hell was going on? Vaguely, Hyunjin heard shouting, but he couldn’t make out the voices or the words. It was all so... fuck. He grabbed his head in agony and was only partially conscious of his knees hitting cold concrete with a shock of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the roaring noise in his head. It hurt. Hurt. Unimaginable fire scorched through his veins like seeping lava and didn’t let up. The agony was so terrible he wasn’t sure if he was awake or in some horrific nightmare. And the memories... were they memories? Kept flooding him overwhelmingly.

He remembered Felix speaking with Minho and Jisung after they’d returned. He’d heard Felix talking about his grace diminishing, and then... fuck, what then? Something had happened. He knew he couldn’t keep doing what he’d been doing. Felix had been so certain of his control, but knowing that he’d hurt him, no matter how little? It had been a rude awakening. Then what?

Cold. He’d been cold. Right. He’d left. Needed to get away. But not in the Impala. They’d have tracked it too easily. So, he’d walked to the main road. Held out his thumb and hitched a ride towards Sioux Falls. He’d been dropped off well before he’d have no excuse but to turn to Chan. Then... Jesus, it was hard to think. Burning. Everything burning inside of him.

Think, Hyunjin, think. Right. Hungry. That hunger edged with craving. Food helped a little bit, but not enough. He’d found a bar. Some hipster joint with overpriced mixed drinks and dark, stained wood all along the perimeter. Low-wattage light bulbs screwed into stained glass fixtures over every table that colored the shiny surfaces in blues and oranges and reds. He’d hated the place immediately, but his brand was on tap and the place was crowded. The wavering masses undulated against his senses, perking up the incubus.

He’d sunk into a booth near the kitchen in the corner and closed his eyes. Took in the sounds and the smells. It was amazing what the incubus poison could do. With a deep breath and some concentration, he made out that there were more women than men in the bar by nearly half. By wandering close to people he could assess their level of drunkenness by the scent of their sweat. And there had been that one man.... After several shots of whiskey on an empty stomach, Hyunjin had wobbled slightly out of the booth to use the restroom and nearly collided with a surprisingly sober man. He smelled like he’d had a drink or two, but nothing to put him truly over the edge. And he smelled of something that hinted at the familiar. Fingers of heat coiled in his belly.

“Sorry,” Sober Man said. His voice was husky and low. Hyunjin glanced up and soaked in the dark suit, light blue tie, blue eyes, dark hair. Slightly longer than Hyunjin preferred, but he could work with it. His vision tunneled to narrow on the man’s face. His lips parted. He didn’t even know what he said. But it was enough for him to catch the second the man’s eyes dilated. He shifted slightly against the edge of the booth. In that moment, Hyunjin knew he had it. The poison pulsed through his veins. It didn’t burn. It made him heady. High. He took a step closer to the man.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The man nodded, mouth hanging open. He was hard in his trousers, panting. Unknowingly drawing in Hyunjin’s poisoned pheromones. Frozen to the spot.

Hyunjin grinned. He nodded over his shoulder. “Come on. Follow me.” In some distant part of his mind, he recognized his incubus voice. The low drawl he used to reserve for dark rooms and making sure his one night stands would leave with a pleasant memory or two. Maybe even learn to call him “the one that got away.” It was that with an added twist he couldn’t quite place. A certain timbre he was positive that he couldn’t replicate when he was in his right mind. But that didn’t matter because that wasn’t now. The ache had started earlier in the day under his fingernails. Tingling over his hands, up his arms. The desire to touch. Feel. He’d run his fingers over the textures of the cheap motel bedspread he’d abandoned for the miasma in the bar. Then his worn jeans. Flannel shirt. It hadn’t felt right. Nothing felt right. As the day wore on and the ache grew deeper into his bones, throbbing in time with his heart, he’d recognized it. Skin. He wanted - needed - to touch bare, warm, smooth, sweaty, flushed skin.

And fucked if Sober Man hadn’t been doing it for him. Pressed up against the passenger door of his unassuming hybrid car, making all the right filthy noises against Hyunjin’s throat. Hyunjin reveled in it. He pushed his hands under the dress shirt, palms heavy on the man’s chest, and it was so fucking... wrong. Wrong. Not the right texture. Wrong. Not the right temperature. Wrong. Not the right smell. Wrong. His entire soul screamed and he nearly doubled over with a sudden burst of vertigo. He pushed himself back and grabbed the man by the lapels of his wrinkled suit jacket. “You’re wrong,” he’d growled. He shoved the man away and almost skinned his knees falling before he’d leaped to his feet again to run away. He’d hot wired a car in the motel’s parking lot and peeled out towards the highway at an unwise speed.

Then... then what? He’d thought about Felix, but that wasn’t news. He’d done that since the very beginning, whether he knew it or not. The hum under his skin felt frustrated. Angry. He’d touched the wrong flesh. Propositioned the wrong man. Done all the wrong things. Nearly killed Felix. Fuck. Fuck! He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, continuing on blindly down the poorly lit back roads until he rediscovered the highway by sheer accident. He’d taken the exit without even bothering to check the direction and driven until the stolen car stalled hours later, out of gas. He didn’t know where he was. Didn’t care. He was away from Felix, and that was all that mattered. Every mile further away. It was important. He couldn’t do this. He’d go crazy. His mind was already a mess. There was no way to stop it. He craved and craved, and it had been easier before because there’d been no relief. He hadn’t known what he’d wanted. Hadn’t had so much as a taste. But then Felix had been there and been perfect and stupid and self-sacrificing, and Hyunjin could take when he wanted to. He was nothing if not good at taking what he wanted. So he’d taken Felix. And it had been a revelation. And now... he couldn’t live with and couldn’t live without. He wasn’t sure whether the incubus wanted it or whether Hyunjin did.

So he had pulled one of his burner cell phones out of his pocket and called the only person he knew within a hundred miles of where he’d stalled. “Chan,” he said. “I need a favor. It’s a big one.”